Life in the Retail Realm

I wrote this for the revamped Zen Community of Oregon Newsletter (name yet to be decided), the house organ of Great Vow Zen Monastery and the affiliated Portland Sangha.

To me, “life off the cushion” is life outside the monastery. It’s a life where I can eat whatever I like. Where I have my own room, with a door. Where the people I encounter may or may not have much insight into why they do the things they do, buy the things they buy, or drive the things they drive. Where fears and assumptions masquerade as political and social truth. It’s a pretty wild place.

Zen is about responding to the circumstances of our lives. When we have no money, we get a job. In this case, working part time in a quirky women’s clothing store. I’m also starting to do web design, and really enjoying the creative outlet and economic possibility of that undertaking. I won’t work in a clothing store forever. But I need money, and there’s plenty to learn.

When I go to the store, I put on clothing that makes me look more like a fashion consultant and less like a little Zen waif. I will help customers, or get ignored, or have my ear talked off. I will be asked to fetch thirty garments for someone who buys none of them. I will work alone, or without a break, for long stretches of time. Like any work, it can be satisfying, or infuriating, depending on the mind you bring to it.

The nicest part of the job is helping customers choose gifts for people they love. It’s very sweet to watch a little girl choosing the perfect earrings for her step mom. The hardest part of the job is the shoplifting; there are some typical behaviors to watch for, but there’s only so much you can do, especially when the store is busy. It’s so sad to come across a discarded tag or an empty hanger, and to know that some deluded person has created terrible karma for herself. One girl, who had been acting suspiciously, returned to the store with an eighty-dollar shirt she said had “fallen into her bag. It was an extremely awkward situation. But, having done the wrong thing, all your options are painful.

Most of what happens in the store is formalized. There are the rituals of offering assistance, answering the phone, ringing people up, and running the credit card machine. We tag merchandise, straighten the racks, and greet the UPS man. In spare moments, I fold and dust and sweep and straighten the racks. It’s like living in an altar.